Salome at Sunrise (23 page)

Her gaze shot to Bryton’s face and he stared, mentally begging her to keep her mouth shut, knowing she wouldn’t.

“Soldier marks,” she hedged. Karok backhanded her. She cowered, her hands splayed over her bruised cheek. “High ones. He’s the king’s man.”

“The king?” Karok shoved her away. Bryton could nearly see evil thoughts taking root and braced for them. Karok closed his eyes and spread his hands high in the air. “The Great One has blessed us, brothers. Let’s show that spineless insect what weaklings he has for soldiers. We’ll cut those marks from him and deliver them to Thistlemount. Chakor, he’s yours but leave him alive. I want him screaming when I give Twylea his heart.”

“You’re just shit out of luck. I already gave it away,” Bryton rasped.

“And get rid of those fucking magic eyes. They make my skin crawl.” Karok spun on one heel as Chakor approached with a malevolent grin. Halfway to the catacomb, Karok stopped and turned back. “No, leave him one. I want him to see me laugh as Twylea feasts on his flesh.”

Chakor chuckled and cracked his knuckles. Someone handed him an iron fire poker, the tip glowing orange. He gripped Bryton’s chin. The last thing Bryton saw was the bright point rushing toward his left eye. The last sound he heard was his own scream.

The tiny island Bryton had showed her on the map was southwest and so Salome funneled that way. Streaming tight and fast, she soared over the mountain ridges, over the lush foothills, over the sandy beaches. Bright lavender sparks crackled in her essence, love and fears and things not voiced.

Blue waters deepened, the color turning to white-frothed ink. Seagulls dipped low and snatched small mackerel from the foam. Diamonds sparkled along the waves from the kiss of the sun. Great fish swam, their shapes visible to her but she took no pleasure in their play. Her goal was fixed and she steeled her fury. She called no country home, owed no allegiance to any government, recognized no flag. Her only loyalty lay with Bryton.

The wide blue reached endlessly. Round and fiery, the sun climbed higher in its arc as she searched the vast sea. Time ticked by but she would not abandon her quest. Bryton’s sacrifice must not be for nothing.

At last, the white sails came into view, tall masts like bones stabbing toward the sky. She swooped low, coasted alongside the vessel. The ship was large, swift and secure. It pulsed with the same malevolent evil that stained Karok. She could not count the number of gold-skinned men who filled the deck and did not try. Her gaze was too trained on the statue tied beside the captain’s cabin. The painted demigoddess with widespread wings watched over the crew as they did their daily chores or lounged in the sunshine.

Salome angled low, lilac mist tingling on her skin as she stepped down onto the aft deck. The salt-laced air snapped at her chiton, flattening it to her body, curving it around her thighs. It whipped her hair about her head. Standing still, she watched the crew take notice.

A cry burst out, a shout in foreign words that had several dozen men pointing at her with outstretched gold-skinned fingers. One man moved forward, a curious slant to his heavy dark brow. Salome decided he was captain. Whether he was or not didn’t matter. She had his attention and he carried authority like a cloak. He barked something but she didn’t jump.

Her gaze slowly slid to the secured statue then back to his. A twitch under his left eye jerked with a staccato. Salome spread her hands and summoned her magic, holding his stare until her vision flashed silver. Enchantment sang along her bones. Skin shifted to feathers, arms stretched to wings and her feet turned to talons. Her screech dropped every last man to their knees. The captain’s topaz eyes rounded and bugged, his mouth falling open before he too knelt before her. One whispered word carried above the rushing waves.

“Twylea.”

Sharp claws raked at the planked deck as she shot into the air, circling the ship. Some men broke into song, some into prayer, three lay prostrate in worship. Salome flew quicker. Feathers faded to air and her wind sped faster. Tighter. Each lap around the wooden ship stirred the ocean, each circumference blending with the next. The hull groaned as the waves grew. Men scrambled and sails strained with the force. The prayers turned to pleas for aid. Salome increased her speed, fueled with the power of love.

The ship spun like a leaf, tossed by a furious gale. Water spray coated the decks, spilling over the railings in plumes. The wind turned cold. Ice formed, slicking the deck and encasing ropes in crystal. The sails tore. Faster and faster Salome spun, channeling all her power down to the wooden craft and the sea it skimmed. Water fought the wood, the wood fought the force and the masts cracked and fell. Masculine screams were swallowed by Salome’s screeching wail of magic and futility.

Drawn by the curious turbulent spot in a calm ocean, by the vibrations along the water, huge fish with sharp teeth converged beneath the waves. The hull split and spilled golden bodies into the feeding path of hungry sharks. The blue sea turned red. Had Salome human lips, they would be twisted with a grimaced smile. Nature had more might than the greatest of man’s evils.

A bolt of dread ricocheted through her soul, carried on a deep pained cry.
Bryton.
Salome surged for her beloved, knowing in her temporary heart she would be too late.

Bryton decided Chakor would’ve made a terrible King’s Might. The most important thing to remember during questioning was that unchecked torture brought oblivion. Unconscious men didn’t talk. Darkness beckoned him again and Bryton fought it, wanting his mind for as long as he had it. Every time he’d slipped into the black, they’d thrown water on him to wake him. When that didn’t work, they turned to wax from the candles. Always on his stomach. The skin had long since peeled away and the weeping flesh there shrieked in anguish at each new droplet.

The stone altar they dumped him on was cool but his stinging skin barely felt it. His back was bloody, torn to shreds from the crack of the whip. Both legs had broken sometime during the beating. He’d felt the snaps but was unable to move at the time. It might have been when they thrust the orange-hot coals against his bare feet. The leather ties had cut deep into his ankles and wrists, holding him still while the Skullmen beat, whipped, punched and kicked.

He rolled a dry tongue around his mouth, counting the broken teeth. His skin tugged under the bloody, crusted mess that had been his left eye. His right leaked tears as the sunlight all but blinded him. Strangely most of the pain was gone. He’d moved beyond agony, beyond suffering, beyond anguish. All he had left was a dull ache.

His injuries were survivable had they come alone. But they hadn’t, and he knew his time was limited. He also knew that time was slipping by too fast. Something inside him had torn and was slowly filling his lungs with thick blood. Karok wasn’t going to get his live sacrifice. He’d be long dead before they stripped his flesh of his most valued marks. Bryton snorted. It was a tiny victory but he claimed it.

A rush of honeyed wind trickled over his body. It carried a song, the sea-scent of tears and a soothing relief.

“Salome.” A smile cracked the dried blood around his lips. “You came back.”

Her face shimmered in purple, then she was whole, kneeling beside him with diamond tears streaking her cheeks. Wind lifted her hair, scattering it around her head, fluttering her chiton, caressing his face. His leaking heart swelled with love.

“I promised,” she sobbed. “Oh, Bryton.”

“No crying, okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

“None can see me. I am for you alone. Rest, don’t talk now.”

“Too late…only got a minute.” He wanted to touch her, to wrap that stubborn curl around his thumb and feel her velvety cheek beneath his hand. His arms wouldn’t move. Salome laced her fingers around his right knuckles and squeezed. He thought he felt it, imagined he could. A scoff surged blood higher in his chest. “Figures. This is what I thought would happen and now I don’t want to die.”

But he would and very soon. Sunlight played through her dancing hair as she bent and pressed damp lips to his knuckles. Her tears stung the wounds on his hands and he relished even that small twinge, a connection from her to him. “Will you be there, Salome?”

“Be where?” She sniffed.

“On the other side of life.”

A trembling smile lifted her perfect lips but she shook her head. She reached to stroke the swatch of black in his hair. “No. I cannot go there but your Katina will be with you.”

“Want you both.” A cough churned the blood in his lungs. Breath grew harder to find. “Selfish, remember?”

Salome sobbed harder but her smile stayed. She was so fiercely determined to be brave it made him smile, the move raking split cheeks along his broken teeth. “Don’t want to leave you.”

Tear-spiked lashes in aged oak slid closed for a breath. When she opened her eyes, they glistened with quicksilver. “Comfort and peace I vowed to bring to you. Let me now give you ease.”

Cool north-spiced wind, thick with the frost of deep winter, blew from her lips. It washed over him in a numbing blanket. All his aches faded, seeping into the breeze. Warm golden light filled him as if he lay in a sun-bathed field. “I love you.”

Sucking back her tears, she nodded. “Each drop of rain that falls shall be my tears for you. Each bit of pollen that floats on the wind shall be my heart touching yours. Every flower that blooms will be my love rejoicing because you are at peace. I shall always love you, in this realm and my own. That shall never die.”

A deep black edge began around his vision and a gurgle sounded from his chest. Something far off whispered to him. “Sing me to sleep, Salome. I want to hear your song.”

The sweet music of her soprano in lilting words caressed his ears as his eye slid closed. So beautiful, indescribably exquisite in tones of mandolins, flutes and harps, the melody surrounded him. It brushed against his soul. His last conscious thought was simple.

Salome
.

Salome gripped his hand tightly, willed him to feel her love and sang the sweetest song she knew, a lullaby of infinite magical love. Her temporal heart ached, twanging in bitter discord, but she let only her love pour out. She closed her eyes and gave her spirit to the melody, letting it soar higher and softer than ever before. A loud, liquid ramble echoed from his chest. Her song faltered, an icy chill creeping into her soul.

“Bryton?”

High on her knees, she leaned over him, searching his relaxed face. The veil between life and death thinned. An exhale hissed from his split lips. The drum of his life force slowed. Her hold in this world shifted. A realm of music and light called to her, tugged at her spirit. Her duty was near complete. Bryton was dying. Her human heart shattered with grief.

“Bryton!”

His pain became hers and she sobbed in torment, tearing at her hair and shrieking to the radiant blue sky. Darkness curled into her heart and the sunlight was too bright, too pristine. It mocked her anguish. The sun had always brought life and vitality, nourishment and warmth. Now it brought death. Something so ugly, so evil, had no place in the sparkling light.

Where were the storm clouds, the black rumbling thunder to underscore the misery that descended with a spike of scorching pain? Why didn’t the moon, that silent dead ball, slide mercifully between her and the dazzling sun, eclipsing the beauty and shading her pain? For the first moment since she’d drawn human breath, Salome cursed the sunlight. She cursed the heavens. She cursed not nature but man in all his cruelty.

A drum line sounded in her soul and a battle song welled from deep under her ribs. Fury landed with the screech of an eagle and she whipped her head around. Where was that bastard who killed her beloved? Bryton had warned she could not take a life but she’d done just that at sea. Or rather she had enabled nature to do that for her. Now her anger had teeth as well as wings.

Lips that hungered for a never-to-come last kiss curled in menace. “Karok!”

Feathers thrust into form and she flew from Bryton’s broken body, circling the huge sanctuary as if demon-chased. Wings beat with murderous fury, snapping like a dragon’s bite. Her newly born agonized screech bounced off walls thousands of summers old. It reverberated until dust shook from the rocks. Salome shrieked, channeling her misery to the piercing octaves of a bird of prey. She was now the predator and she hunted.

Skullmen rushed into the hall. Every golden, skull-painted face rose to watch her. Eyes that could not cry glared with the fire raging in her breast.

Karok was the last man to enter. A self-satisfied smile shone on his face and he laughed loud. “She comes. I told you, the Great One would never forsake us.”

Her eagle’s talons twitched to rip the smirk from his face. Careening with one last piercing caw, she glided to land on a pedestal above Bryton’s body. Her chest heaving with emotion far too great for her sleek body, she spread her wings wide and summoned her magic. Betraying sunlight warmed her shoulders but her heart felt nothing but the wintry kiss of revenge.

“Mighty Twylea.” Her female form dropped Karok to his knees and opened his mouth. His reverent breath sickened her. He thought her his goddess and his goddess she would be, but not as he imagined her.

“Karok, what have you done?”

“All for your glory, my goddess. This land will bow to you, worship you and sing your praises.”

“For me?” Salome laughed, an evil cackle born of absolute desolation and borderline insanity. “No, your evil tarnishes this land and all you touch. I am not pleased, Karok.”

A frown wrinkled the drawn bone on his forehead, slanting his eyebrows sharply. “But I gave your blood sacrifices. I said the prayers. I offered th—”

“I am not appeased. Will you grant to me that which will soften my ire?”

“Anything, my goddess, all that I have is yours.”

Salome allowed her lips to inch higher, to grace a smile on his genuflected form. “I demand your life.”

Before his eyes could widen, she thrust her arms high and pulled the wind. Cyclone-force threw him against the stone wall, shattering the fresh bird-goddess carving. Misery sharpened her charm to a wire-fine edge. Murderous pain forged in a broken heart lashed out. A wind-borne wail filled the hall, pitching golden-skinned men like leaves in a breeze, tumbling them from wall to wall. Fresh blood splattered on the ancient reliefs, dripping down sandy rock like newly cut veins.